Chapter Seventeen: A Gentle Word Dispels the Poison

The sun dipped toward the west, and the hour for the evening meal had arrived at the War King's residence. As was tradition in the Kingdom of Liyue, the first dinner of the new year was to be held together in the main hall. Since no one resided in the War King's main quarters, the gathering was set in the Listening Wind Pavilion.

Feng Jinye gazed at the eight dishes arranged on the table; their color, aroma, and flavor were all exquisitely balanced. Especially the star-spotted grouper in the center—its crimson hue revealed at a glance that it was of the finest quality. Ever since the ninth day, he had known the menu for these two days had been prepared by Wei Shao Qianyu, who was thoughtful enough to remember his fondness for fish.

Yet, Feng Jinye, holding his chopsticks, did not begin to eat. His eyes lingered on the seat set aside for Qianyu, but she did not appear. His brows drew together in a deep frown.

Eventually, Feng Jinye set down his chopsticks and asked Chu Jiu, "Has a meal been prepared in Zhiyu Pavilion?"

Chu Jiu, always skilled at reading moods, now sensed his lord's temper approaching a boil. He dared not utter a word and only shook his head.

Feng Jinye was displeased with Chu Jiu's lack of tact; since the master had asked, he should have gone himself to summon her. "Go invite the princess to dinner!"

"Master, I already sent someone. Qingxia said the princess is unwell and will not dine tonight." Fearing Feng Jinye's anger, Chu Jiu hastily added, "Qingxia's eyes were red as she spoke—it must be true!"

Feng Jinye's swordlike brows furrowed. Hadn't Leng Ling said there was no illness? How could she be unwell?

Yun Ming, unmoved by whether the War King had begun to eat, helped himself to the food with relish, but did not touch the star-spotted grouper. He could tell that was meant for Feng Jinye. "Aren't you going to check on her? If she runs away, don't regret it!"

Feng Jinye rose abruptly, signaled for Chu Jiu to pack up all the dishes, and led the way toward Zhiyu Pavilion.

Yun Ming's handsome face stiffened—Feng Jinye must bear him a grudge for that impertinent remark!

When Feng Jinye entered Zhiyu Pavilion, it was just as it had been after returning from the Duke's estate: empty and silent. A faint, low sobbing of a woman could be heard. Chu Jiu quickly found Qingxia.

With a look, Chu Jiu signaled Qingxia that their lord was about to lose his temper and that tears would only earn a beating. "Why are you crying? Don't you see the lord is here? Go in and announce him!"

Qingxia ignored the warning, her tone cold and unyielding. "Greetings, my lord! My mistress is unwell and not receiving visitors."

The words "not receiving visitors" deepened the furrow in Feng Jinye's brow. He, a visitor? If anyone was a guest here, it was she—this was his residence!

No matter how he looked at it, Feng Jinye found the notion intolerable; he refused to consider himself and Qianyu as master and guest.

"Chu Jiu, knock," Feng Jinye commanded, his face like frost.

Chu Jiu obeyed, knocking again and again, but there was no reply beyond the echoing raps.

Qingxia, unfazed by whether Feng Jinye noticed anything amiss, coldly stalled, "What business has the lord with my mistress? She is asleep. Please tell Qingxia, and I will relay your message!"

The more Feng Jinye thought, the more something felt wrong. Stepping forward, he pushed Chu Jiu aside and kicked the door open. As he suspected, the room was empty.

"Where is she?" An uneasy premonition gnawed at him. Leng Ling's words from noon came to mind, sending a chill through his heart. She wouldn't have taken the antidote—she couldn't have!

Qingxia, inwardly resentful that Feng Jinye hadn't come that morning, nor at noon when she called for the imperial physician, nor at lunch when her mistress had eaten alone, now found her lady gone. It was too late. "Why should the War King care where my mistress has gone? She is the War King's princess; she may go wherever she pleases!"

Qingxia understood that Qianyu and Feng Jinye had an agreement of cooperation—he would not restrict her freedom. Even the guards once stationed at Zhiyu Pavilion had been withdrawn.

"Where is she?" Feng Jinye's words crashed down like thunder, making it hard for Qingxia to breathe.

"My mistress didn't say," Qingxia forced out, her resentment burning. Why should her mistress endure so much suffering alone? If her mistress was in pain, Feng Jinye deserved no peace, either.

"Ye Shiyi, find her." Feng Jinye's voice was glacial, each syllable sharp as ice.

Yun Ming, in his elegant robes, followed behind, no one knowing he had originally come just to freeload a meal. Now, he regretted coming along.

Feng Jinye turned and caught Yun Ming's gaze. Yun Ming instantly recalled his own words, "If she runs, don't regret it," and realized he would go to bed hungry tonight.

Seeing Yun Ming alone, Feng Jinye suddenly turned to Qingxia and threatened coldly, "Chu Jiu, if she won't talk, go to Dongyue Pavilion, the point where the assignments are given, and slaughter everyone there!"

Yun Ming, too, realized Dong Nuan was not by his side to attend him.

As night fell and the snow came late, Qianyu had taken the antidote and soon began to sweat profusely—beads of sweat as large as pearls rolling down her brow. Her hair was soaked, her underclothes changed again and again.

Dong Nuan, face drawn with worry, kept bringing water as she was told, not understanding Qianyu's muttered instructions about dehydration, but faithfully feeding her water and changing her clothes.

Other than sweating, Qianyu felt nothing at first, but sensed that things would soon grow much worse.

She trusted Physician Leng's judgment. Already she had been sweating for two hours—would the pain like being cut with knives last two hours, then the boiling sensation another two, and the burning still more? No wonder Physician Leng had said, "It will be agony unto death."

"Mistress, are you unwell?" Dong Nuan, watching Qianyu closely, noticed her contemplative silence and asked.

"The pain is starting."

Qianyu's face grew ashen; her brow no longer gleamed with large beads, but with a fine sheen of sweat. Dong Nuan helped her up, wiped the sweat, and changed her clothes once more.

Qianyu felt as if something was churning in her blood, the pain intensifying, every nerve aflame. Her limbs swelled as if about to burst. Leng's words—"skin ulceration"—flashed through her mind. Perhaps her skin would rupture from the pressure. Suddenly, she cried out, "Dong Nuan, the dagger!"

Dong Nuan froze, not pausing to question why Qianyu wanted a blade. She handed it over almost unconsciously.

The dagger was a Lu family heirloom, famed for its sharpness—once used by Lu Yanran to threaten Qianyu, and left behind when she departed.

Qianyu's palm was slick with sweat as she drew the blade and made a light cut on her left arm. Blood oozed out slowly, and the wound turned bright red. An excruciating pain shot through her body, so intense she did not even notice her fingernails digging into her palm.

But the sensation of her blood seething, swelling to the verge of rupture, only shifted upward from the cut; the pain of the wound, like a heated blade pressed to her skin, made her grunt despite herself. "Dong Nuan, again—an inch higher."

Her strength fading, she murmured, "Be gentle. Don't cut too deep; I can't afford to lose much blood."

Qianyu's cut was shallow, barely nicking the capillaries, so only a little blood seeped out. She knew that any deeper, with too many wounds, she might die of blood loss before anything else.

Dong Nuan took a deep breath, reverting in an instant to the cold, ruthless demeanor of her days as a shadow guard, and began making cut after cut on Qianyu's body.

This was why Qianyu brought Dong Nuan and not Qingxia—Dong Nuan was always calm and decisive.

Back at the War King's residence, in Zhiyu Pavilion, Qingxia's face alternated between pale and ashen, but she stubbornly bit her lip and kept silent. Chu Jiu fretted, then brightened with an idea. "Qingxia, didn't you hear Physician Leng say yesterday that if the princess takes the antidote, she may literally die of pain? Aren't you afraid you'll never see her again if you don't go to her side?"

No sooner had Chu Jiu finished than a thunderclap boomed in the sky, startling him into thinking he had jinxed the princess and would be punished by the heavens.

A torrential rain soon poured down.

"Qingxia, please, speak up. The princess may be suffering right now—if the lord goes to her, he might be able to help!" Chu Jiu pleaded, growing more desperate.

"What help could he possibly give? My mistress has no need of him!" Qingxia's heart was full of resentment for Feng Jinye's absence when he was needed most.

"My mistress would not care to see him!" With these words, Qingxia hurried out of the estate, spurred by Chu Jiu's chilling mention of "dying in agony" and "her last moments," and by that ominous thunder. She had to see her mistress with her own eyes to be at ease.

Before Chu Jiu could scold her, Feng Jinye had already vanished, silently following after Qingxia.

In the upper chamber of the Late Snow Pavilion, Qianyu's body was now covered in countless wounds. Dong Nuan's hands trembled as she called out repeatedly, "Miss?"

Qianyu, barely breathing, managed a faint "Mm" to show she was still conscious and alive.

Two hours dragged by. Night had fallen, rain was hammering the roof, thunder rumbled like a dirge. Qianyu finally calmed for a while, then managed to whisper, "Dong... it's passed... no more cuts."

Though Dong Nuan had seen life and death as a shadow guard, the sight of so many scarlet wounds on Qianyu's body filled her eyes with tears. She had thought herself incapable of weeping, yet now her vision blurred.

Only now did Qianyu fully understand that when Physician Leng described the pain as "like a dull knife," it was no mere figure of speech.

Dong Nuan, relieved by Qianyu's words, thought she had finally endured the worst—when suddenly Qianyu tumbled from the bed with a crash.

Qianyu felt her blood boiling, as if her body were a vessel with steam pouring out, her blood heated to the point of eruption.

Unable to open her eyes, she whispered with her last strength, "Dong Nuan... ice wine..."

"Miss, wait a moment. I'll fetch ice..." Dong Nuan burst from the room in haste, only to hear chaos erupt downstairs.

In a panic, Dong Nuan shouted, "Block them! Use your lives if you must—don’t let anyone in!"